"Wildland Prophecy" - A Weekend Freewrite

Its mother merely establishes contact by scratching the infant's basket with a fingernail. She looked scared but curious, still tired from giving birth to this mixed race baby. A curious case for Sebastian, who raised between a quiet province and the elegant capital of the kingdom never had the chance to think about the aftermath of marauding orcs raping human women in the wilder regions of the kingdom.

But this time was different in some way that he couldn’t quite understand yet. His visions, long dormant or confusing, has returned two weeks prior and told him to come here, to this remote village, to meet this mother and her baby. He didn’t know, but felt that this path was the right one every second he saw the mother timidly grabbing the green-skinned baby, who in turn smiled with its big mouth and lively eyes. This wasn’t the first time a birth like this happened, but judging by the faces of the other townsfolk present, it must be quite uncommon for the mother to accept their new offspring, and anyone could see why.

It has been raging for years in the rural community, weighing heavy on the hearts of people. This orcish warbands went trough the lands, taking what they wanted in the name of a superior cause that only them could appreciate, or even comprehend. Most people that lived here sided with those who pointed at the most iconic orcs in popular history: those murderous barbarians, wildling that lived just for violence and domination.

Sebastián knew better. He wasn’t fond of the imposing creatures, but his reading while in the academy, and the findings he made while traveling towards here thought him that this group was something else, pariahs even within an already outcast people. And again he could only thing “why?”; protect this baby, clean the image of this hermetic breed of humanoids, all because of something important that he felt would happen in the future, but he was terrible at negotiating, or assuming any kind of major responsibility.

But more than his doubts, the iron was heavy, that much he could tell from the noises of the few guard’s boots while one of them entered the room, opening the door and letting inside the ominous howling of an oncoming storm. The door closed. The man looked gravely at the foreigner magician, and at the mother who by now was feeding her newborn, wincing a little in pain from the scratches the small but pointy inferior fangs produced in her breast.

That man was the captain of the small army’s division positioned here, and in his face he could feel the weight of truly heavy responsibility, like old iron that had absorbed the blood of all the villagers dead in past attacks. This was an unimportant population and therefore, just old dogs were assigned here, a formality to keep a good image with the countryfolk while also getting rid of problematic agents, but the man would still try to defend this people. He signaled Sebastian to come upstairs, to sit down with a bottle of vodka in front of them.

“So, what is that prophecy you were talking about…?”.